poetry for breakfast
ΝΕΛΛΗ
μετά την ποίηση
βρέθηκαν στα δαχτυλικά μου αποτυπώματα
ίχνη
από ¨μικρές δαγκωματιές απριλίου"
April 11,2015
JULIAN DEL CASAL (Cuba,1863-1893)
MIS AMORES
(Soneto Pompadour)
Amo el bronce, el cristal, las porcelanas
las vidrieras de multiples colores,
los tapices pintados de oro y flores
y las brillantes lunas venecianas.
Amo tambien las bellas castellanas,
la cancion de los viejos trovadores,
los arabes corceles voladores,
las flebiles baladas alemanas.
Pero amo mucho mas, Rosa hechicera,
que escuchas mis cantares amorosos,
contemplar con miradas devorantes,
el oro de tu larga cabellera,
el rojo de tus labios temblorosos,
y el negro de tus ojos centelleantes.
April 11,2015
WENDY COPE (England,1945)
AFTER THE LUNCH
On Waterloo Bridge, where we said our goodbyes,
The weather conditions bring tears to my eyes.
I wipe them away with a black woolly glove
And try not to notice I’ve fallen in love.
On Waterloo Bridge I am trying to think:
This is nothing. You’re high on the charm and the drink.
But the juke-box inside me is playing a song
That says something different. And when was it wrong?
On Waterloo Bridge with the wind in my hair
I am tempted to skip. You’re a fool. I don’t care.
The head does its best but the heart is the boss -
I admit it before I am halfway across.
April 12, 2015
VASCO GRAÇA MOURA
(Portugal,1942-2014)
NUM BARCO NO RIO
num barco no rio,
num barco subindo
o rio te peço
que amanhã não vás,
que não vás embora
deste rio minho,
que não te separes
do rasto do barco,
dessa ágil espuma,
do vento a passar
pelos teus cabelos
e do sol na cara,
nem de mim que te olho
nos olhos, pedindo.
há gente nas margens?
haverá, não sei.
há velas, motores,
arvoredos, ilhas?
há esquiadores?
pedregulhos, perigos,
sombras da boega?
é forte a corrente?
sei lá. sei que peço
fiques mais um dia
e não quero, não,
que te vás embora.
ON A BOAT ON THE RIVER
on a boat on the river
on a boat
up river I ask you
not to leave tomorrow,
not to leave
this river minho,
not to desert
the trail of the boat
the agile foams,
the wind passing
through your hair,
the sun on your face,
or me, who looks
into your eyes, pleading.
are there people on the bank?
most likely, I don’t know.
are there sails, engines,
woods, islands?
are there water skiers?
rocks, dangers,
shadows in boega?
is the current strong?
what do I know. I know
I’m asking you to stay
another day and I do not,
do not want you to go.
(translated by Ana Hudson)
Shot and edited by Matthew Brown
click on jam to have breakfast in Cuba
click on jam to have breakfast in England
click on jam to have breakfast in Portugal
